A Moonlight Serenade
by ocfairygodmother
Summary: After years living in Florida, Erin James finds herself coming back home to London to live in the flat in her mother's basement In a whirlwind of change she finds herself caught up in the proceedings of the consulting detective.


**Chapter 1: The Story Begins**

* * *

Lithe fingers traced the black and white keys of the upright piano. A thin coating of dust blanketed the keys, meaning the instrument had gone neglected for a time. Worse yet, when a key was plunked, the note revealed that the instrument was in dire need of a good tuning. But the fingers weren't to be dissuaded. The fingers found the right notes. And the notes strung together to form a familiar melody. _Moonlight Sonata._

Erin James didn't need sheet music for the piece. She had memorized it years ago and the movement came back to her fingers, much like riding a bicycle. Her ginger locks fell in her face as she watched her fingers dance on the keys. She smiled softly to herself. She had certainly missed having a piano to play whenever she wished. She hadn't been allowed one before coming to London. There really hadn't been room in her life for such pleasures. Erin was hoping to change that.

When the song finished, Erin sat there breathing somewhat heavily with her fingers still on the keys, something she had done since a child. As a child, she had always thought that _this_ was what a world-renowned concert pianist did after a spectacular performance. She had always wanted to become such a pianist. And she almost had. But life had other plans for her.

A slow clap came from behind, startling her. With her hand on her heart, Erin turned to see a stranger. A man with curly black hair falling in his face and bright blue eyes stood in the doorway slowly clapping his hands. Erin wasn't sure whether he truly was complimenting her or mocking her. She stood to her feet and pulled her hair behind her ears.

The man tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, clearly scrutinizing her. He wasn't looking at her like she was a piece of meat like most men did. No, he was analyzing her to find out clues. It was rather unnerving. She cleared her throat and ran her fingers through her hair. "Can I help you?" Erin asked. "Mrs. Hudson said she would be right back."

He clasped his hands behind his back and paced back and forth in front of her, almost like it was some sort of intimidation tactic. Somehow he managed to narrow his eyes even further, which she didn't even know was possible.

"You're here about the flat." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. And his tone was rather condescending. She didn't like it.

Erin folded her arms across her chest and arched her eyebrow. She opened her mouth to speak, but the man held his hand up in front of her to stop her. "You might as well save your breath. Clearly, you were about to ask how I knew you were here about the flat."

"Actually, I was going to ask why it is you break into a poor defenseless woman's home without so much as a knock."

The man arched his eyebrow and cocked his head. He hadn't anticipated that response. They always wanted to know how he knew. He mused that she likely just did not want to admit it in front of him. So he ignored her statement and moved on with his train of thought. "The advertisement on the notice board outside is now conveniently sticking out of your purse." He pointed at the knockoff purse near the piano.

"Your accent gives you away. American. An American in London. You wouldn't be _here_, at 221 Baker Street, if you were simply visiting. So you are moving here, likely to start over and get away from your husband...or should I say, _ex-_husband."

Erin simply stood there staring at him. "You still haven't answered _my_ question."

The man looked a little perturbed. Anyone else would have been thoroughly impressed by his deductions. It was odd that she wasn't fawning over him or showering him with praise. Instead, she just stood there annoyed...and that annoyed him. So he furthered.

"How was it I knew you were recently divorced? Or at least in the middle of divorce proceeding...your ring finger. You have a tan around where your ring would have been but no tan where the ring was. Perhaps you were separated by death, but you wouldn't part with the ring if that were true. Your necklace, a likely spot for a ring, is ringless." The man lifted the necklace that was around her neck and dropped it.

She snatched her necklace in her hand and took a step away from him. "I'm pretty sure a blind person could have figured that out...and they're blind," Erin scoffed. "Not really all that impressive."

The man's brow furrowed. Clearly, she was frustrating him. He stood a little taller, trying to use his height to his advantage. Erin shook her head, it was a move she was all-too-familiar with. "Judging by your skill and how easily your fingers move, you're a professional pianist. There was something in the paper about an American piano player performing in London for a stint."

Erin folded her arms across her chest. "You ever heard of not judging a book by its cover?"

"I'm not. I'm judging the book by the book."

"But you've never read this book," Erin rebutted. She took a step closer to the man. He had a clear height advantage, by about eight inches or so. But she couldn't help but feel the need to stand up to him, refusing to back down. It was probably all the fight in her she had kept buried over the last few years. She wasn't going to be taken for a fool again.

"There is no need," the man chuckled darkly staring down at her. "There is no effort needed to deduce you."

Erin looked up at the man incredulously. And then it hit her. She _knew_ who he was. Erin took a step back. She shook her head and smirked up at him. "Is that so, _Mr. Holmes_?" She had heard plenty about the infamous Sherlock Holmes and read about him on the internet. Also, she had done a background check on him when he applied for 221B. She had been given a much more glowing picture of him.

"I see my reputation precedes me."

"Sure, we'll go with that," Erin said with shrug.

His brow furrowed. He did not like her answer, but he did not argue her on it. He was starting to figure out that might not be useful. "Now that you know who I am, I believe now would be the time for you to introduce yourself."

"Nah, I'd much rather have you guess." She snatched her purse and hugged it tight so that he couldn't look through it. She knew that what she was doing was childish, but she didn't really care. She was enjoying this. "Just so you don't get any ideas."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "It doesn't work like _that_."

"But I thought I was, and quote me if I'm wrong, _no effort._" Erin batted her eyelashes at him, looking up at him innocently.

He wasn't moved by her actions. "Are you going to tell me who you are or not?"

"Well, when you put it like that...not." Erin knew she was goading him. She also knew what a _brilliant_ mind he had. She had heard about it time and time again. She was enjoying frustrating him in this sense. From what she had been told, it was quite rare to pull something on him. So, she was going to enjoy it while she could.

...or at least she had intended to. Mrs. Hudson chose that moment to walk through her front door with a small bag from the local bakery. She stopped in the hall and was shocked to see Erin and Sherlock standing in front of her. "Erin? Sherlock? So glad to see you've both met."

"So, it's Erin then?"

"Yup," Erin said popping the p. "Erin James, nice to _officially_ meet you, despite the fact that you cheated to figure out my name." She held out her hand and eyed Sherlock. He eyed her back before he slowly accepted her hand.

As they shook hands, Mrs. Hudson snuck by. "I'll put on some tea and biscuits," she said before disappearing into the kitchen.

Erin released Sherlock's hand and folded her arms across her chest. She looked over her shoulder to make sure that Mrs. Hudson was out of earshot. She then took a step closer to Sherlock, so that they were toe to toe. Erin rested her hands on her hips and stood as tall as she could.

"Now, about your analysis. It wasn't completely accurate. Let me help you. First off, I hold dual citizenship. So while yes, I am an American, I'm also British. I lived in America during my formative years and the accent just kinda stuck. To be honest, I don't mind my accent. Second off, the _ring tan_ is from an engagement ring...not a wedding ring. Easy mistake. Although you were spot on about it ending. I'll admit it, he was an ass...and a criminal. Friend of my father. You know all about him." She paused. He looked confused. Erin smiled.

"We'll circle back to that for the grand finale. Let me see here, what number were we on? Three, right? Sure, we'll go with three. Third of all, I'm not a professional pianist. The movement of my fingers could also be ascribed to the motion of using a computer keyboard. I'm a technical analyst...or at least, I was. I'm currently unemployed. A title I wear proudly for the moment. But I will take the compliment on my piano playing. A high compliment coming from you I would assume."

Sherlock was trying to process all the information being thrown his way. But she wasn't done yet.

"Now, as to why I chose 221 Baker Street…" She plucked the advertisement from her bag. "I took this down because I didn't want anyone else seeing it. Yes, I'm planning on living here. Mom did say if I ever wanted it, it was mine." Erin paused. "I'll give you a second to catch up. Okay, second over." Erin extended her hand once more. "Hi, I'm Erin James, dual citizen, daughter of Mrs. Hudson, former CIA technical analyst, currently unemployed, and your future neighbor. A pleasure to meet you."

For once in his life, Sherlock Holmes stood there flabbergasted. He had never been _this_ wrong about something before. How had he been so wrong? It wasn't possible, was it?

Erin smirked. He didn't move to shake her hand again. So, she slowly lowered her hand and walked over to her mother who had just rejoined them with tea and biscuits. Erin grabbed a biscuit and took a bite.

"Erin dear, what did you do to Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked her daughter.

"Nothing Mother. He's just catching up. I'm sure he'll be fine in a minute or two." Erin smiled and took another bite of biscuit knowing that she wasn't likely to best Sherlock Holmes like that again. She was going to savor it while she could.

* * *

**Author's Note: The Sherlock plot bunny has risen! Haha. First, I would like to point out that I am nowhere near as smart as Sherlock, so any and all dumbing-down is me. Although I was pretty proud of the deductions I had him making this chapter...he just wasn't completely accurate about Erin. I blame Nixdragon for the existence of this story. You should too. haha.**


End file.
